


Week One: I Care For You

by Shimmermoon01



Series: The Welters Challenge [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: (well I mean kinda... Q forgets to eat or just can't find it in him to eat), Anorexia, Brakebills, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay, Hurt Quentin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Q is gonna kill this poor kid, Q is so broken it make me cry, eliot cares, like too much for his own good, please, queliot, someone save these boys, the welters challenge, trigger warning, week one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:53:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shimmermoon01/pseuds/Shimmermoon01
Summary: Eliot cares about Q. A lot. So when Quentin starts to succumb to the thoughts in his head El decides it's time to show him his favorite room at Brakebills(For week one of the welters challenge)





	Week One: I Care For You

It had been a week since Quentin laughed, four days since he smiled, three days since he left the cottage, and two days since he left his bed. Most haven't noticed his disappearance but Eliot... Eliot always knows when something is wrong with Quentin. Eliot took pride when he last saw Quentin laugh, he couldn't help but smile along with him when he smiled, he started to worry when he didnt leave the cottage, and he's currently standing outside Quentin's door debating whether or not to go in.

If he went in there were two possibilities in El's mind. One, Eliot is overreacting and Quentin is either perfectly fine or not even in there. Two, Quentin is either already dead or laying on his bed a total shattered mess. Eliot was pretty sure he favored the first option. 

El continued to pace, stalling his inevitable entrance to Q's room. If he went in he faced either embarressment or pain. Horrid, terrible, embarressing, utter mortification. He'd risk his entire relationship with Quentin. Dammit! Friendship, he'd risk his whole friendship with Quentin, Why does he keep saying that? They arent a fucking couple! Is he crying now? Damn, what's wrong with him? 

Focus! He needs to focus! Q's life could be on the line. He could be lying on his bed in a pool of his own blood. Hanging from a rope attached to his cieling. Just lying on his bed with a blank face and an empty bottle of pills. Crap! He needs to get in there!

His hand sits there, balled up in a fist. It's shaking. No, not shaking. Stuttering, his hand is stuttering. If hands can even stutter. God dammit, why is this so hard for him? It's the same room he's been in a million times, the same person he opened up to in a matter of days or at least so to speak, he did, in his own personal Eliot way. So, why? Why is it so god damn difficult to just knock? One, two. One, two. One, two. Fuck!

A loud bang echoes from inside Q's room, "Quentin you in there?"

"Fuck, uhm ye-yeah! Yeah, just-just, give me a second!" Quentin's voice is raspy from unuse but it fills Eliot with an overwhelming sense of relief as he lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

It takes around two minutes before the door is finally opened by a rather frowzy looking Quentin, "so whats up?"

The moment the door opened Eliot caught a heavy wiff of what can only be descriped as a crappy febreeze scent. He coughed slightly in reaction, "Q, what the hell? It smells like Alice's shampoo in here!"

"That was a little rude..." Q mumbles. It's at this moment that Eliot realizes Q is blocking El from being able to see his room. 

Eliot lets out a frustrated sigh, "look... Q, are you okay?"

"Yeah of course, why wouldn't I be?" Quentin tries to smile but Eliot knew Quentin's smile like he knew his own past and that shape of Q's mouth was not his beautiful smile that has El taken at just the thought of it. 

"Well you look like shiz for starters and no ones seen you for two days," Eliot says bluntly. 

"Wow, thanks El. I'm fine. Drop it."

"Like hell I'm gonna drop it!" It's at this point that Eliot finally takes a true look at Quentin. His hair is slick with grease and his eyes heavy with deep bags. His face is pale and it's painfully obvious that he's lost a lot of weight; not that he had much to lose. 

"El, I'm fine. Go bother Margo or someone." Quentin tries to close the door but before he can Eliot forces it all the way open. The picture that is put on display for him has dirty clothes thrown astray, books everywhere, and a bedraggled bed that has clearly not been left for a while.

"Jesus Q..." Eliot mutters under his breath. 

"I know it's a bit of a mess but I didn't exactly expect company," Q's voice holds a slightly sore aspect to it's tone. 

"Well you should have," Eliot starts in irritation, "you haven't left your room in two days Q."

 

"So?"

"So," he doesn't know what to say. He's not sure he ever knows what to say, "when was the last time you ate?" 

"I... don't remember," Quentin started but tried to back track at the incredulous look Eliot gave him, "it's fine! I probably ate last night!"

"Probably?" Eliot raised an unamused eyebrow.

"Definitely," Quentin tried to speak with what he believed to be full confidence but there was no tricking Eliot when it came to Q. 

"For some reason I don't believe you," El states in a mirthless drawl. 

"El, enough. I'm fine," Q tried to argue but knew he went completely ignored when Eliot let out an aggravated huff and grabbed Q, yanking him away. 

"El! Eliot! Where are you taking me?" Q started to panic a bit at his friends sudden decision to drag him away from the comfort of his room. When El neglected to give him a response he decided to just go along and follow him as doing what Eliot asks is just always the best option (this also heavily applies for Margo).

Of course Quentin knows El doesn't actually care and more then likely there's something that he could get out of doing this. Q knows nobody ever really cares. James didn't. Julia didn't. Alice doesn't. And Eliot doesn't and never will, because people don't care about Quentin. People have never and will never, ever care because Quentin is Quentin and people are people and those two things just don't work together. Never have, never will.

"Quentin! We're here," Eliot snaps his fingers in front of Q's face in an attempt to get his attention. 

"Where exactly is here again?" Quentin asks in aggravation. 

"My favorite room at Brakebills," El says with a smirk as he opens the small oak door in front of them. 

Q stared in astonishment at the room before him as it finally hit him. People can care about him. People do care about him. 

"You care. You actually care about me," Q just stared at him with too many emotions to name running through his eyes. 

"More then anything," Eliot stares back at him with what could only be called love. Pure, invincible, love.


End file.
